The Glee Project: Prom
by I Write Sins Not Tragidies
Summary: Porter High's school year of 2011-2012 is coming to a close, and we all know what that means; Prom. TGP, ships including, Michellie, Chaylin, Shake, and slight Blellie.


Around the world, children, tweens, and teenagers alike all wait excitedly for the one defining moment at the close of their senior year, where you have nothing but fun, a night where life is supposed to click for a few hours and your school career finally seems worth it.

Prom.

The halls are constantly buzzing about who asked who, who's wearing what, and who's doing what at this time of year, as girls pray to God that their crush will ask them, the boys trying to find a way to ask the girls and gather the courage to do such.

This is going to be interesting.

* * *

Blake Jenner finishes off the last of the pizza, leaning forward to double check that there's no more of the delicious goodness that is pizza in the grease-stained box, disappointed to see the same results as two minutes beforehand; no more pizza.

"Dude," Michael Weisman wipes his hands, freeing them to the best of his ability of grease. "Prom is in, like, two weeks."

"I know." Blake kicks the pizza box off to the side, his eyes glued to his living room ceiling.

"Well, we kinda need dates."

"Who were you thinking?" Blake raises an eyebrow.

"—I was thinking Nellie." They both speak simultaneously.

As soon as it registers in their mind that they're both thinking of asking the same girl, their eyes meet in a challenging manner.

Oh, this is war.

* * *

Charlie Lubeck watches from behind his locker door at the red-haired beauty at her locker exactly 8 portals to the right away from his own, as she reaches up to obtain a textbook from the top shelf. C'mon, Charlie, just ask her…

He grips the fabric of his jeans. His palms are sweating and shaking, and he just can't get his shit together. He wants to ask Aylin more than anything, but he just can't seem to get the courage to. Besides, she probably wouldn't have said yes. Why would someone as creative and talented and funny and bad-ass and sexy as her want a geeky theater-nerd like him? She wouldn't, that's why.

He watches helplessly as she finishes up at her locker, shuts it with a rattle, and sashays off and around the corner.

Charlie slams the own door of his locker shut and leans his forehead against the cool metal. God, what's wrong with him?

* * *

Shanna doesn't realize she's staring at Blake until she's snapped back into reality by her English teacher.

"Shanna," Mrs. Dhorty's poignant voice startles the blond.

Shanna hesitates before answering. "U-uh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Dhorty, can you please repeat the question?" The rest of the class snickers at her trip-up, and she can't help but redden.

"What do you believe Green was symbolizing when he refers to 'the labyrinth'?"

"Um, life?" It's a weak answer, but her teacher seems please enough.

"Yes! Life can be thought of a labyrinth in many different ways, but it can also be thought of as your mind." Mrs. Dhorty sends a knowing smirk Shanna's way. "Try not to get too lost in it."

"Sorry," Shanna flashes the brightest smile she can muster, but runs the back of her neck awkwardly, her blush growing terribly.

She can't help but block out her teacher's rambling once again, though, as she gets caught up daydreaming about how amazingly fantastic dating Blake would be. It's not her fault he's so… Blake. So attractive and funny and awesome. It takes all her strength, sometimes, to not write "Mrs. Shanna Jenner" on her school papers.

Oh, yeah, she's got it bad.

Now if only she could get him to notice her.

* * *

"Dude, just let me have her!"

"No!" Michael growls. "You get, like, all the girls!"

"What are you talking about?" Blake pulls a face. "All the girls love you because of your adorable charm!"

"Yeah, and then you attract them with your perfect hair and abs!"

"It's not my fault, okay?"

"That doesn't mean you should get to ask her!"

"Tell you what." A small smirk forms on Blake's face, and he crosses his arms. "Whoever comes up with the best way to ask her wins. We'll get Aylin and Abraham to judge."

Michael copies his best friends smile, and takes his outstretched hand and shakes it. "It's a deal."

"Deal."

"May the best man win."

* * *

"What am I supposed to do?"

Nellie tears off another piece of Abraham's soft pretzel, shrugging. "Just, like, ask her."

"It's not that easy, Nell." Abraham insists. "He needs to do something awesome. I know Aylin; she won't go for just anything."

"Oh, shut up, you just had to ask Dani and she agreed."Charlie kicks Abraham under the table, and the asian stifles a laugh. Charlie slams his hands down on the food court table. "But it has to be fantastic! And that's why I don't know what to do! Hell, I can't even just walk up to her and ask her! I'm too nervous."

"You've got it ba-ad." Abraham teases, and Nellie throws her head back, laughing.

"Maybe you could, like, jump out of a plane with a sign that says 'go to Prom with me, Aylin'." Nellie suggests jokingly.

Charlie's face lights up. "Can I do that?"

"I was kidding. Char, you're scared to death of heights!" Her eyes widen in surprise. "Jeez, you really do have it bad."

"Aw, our little Charlie's in love." Abraham shares a mockingly proud moment with Nellie, shaking their shoulders in excitement.

Charlie laughs sheepishly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He's unable to say they're wrong.

* * *

Shanna rifles through her closet and dresser, desperately looking for something to catch Blake's attention in her collection of jeans, skirts, and blouses, to no avail.

"Why don't we go shopping?" Aylin suggests from atop Shanna's bed, and, aggravated, the blond turns around.

"I have to save my allowance money for my Prom dress!" She groans, grabbing fistfuls of her hair. "How am I supposed to get his attention when I look like a boring school girl?"

"You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want."

Shanna shakes her head somewhat sadly, sitting on the edge of her bed. Aylin sits up. "I-I'll figure something out…"

Aylin frowns and gives her friend a sideways hug. "It'll be okay, Shan." The blond sighs, leaning into the embrace.

"I hope so."

* * *

"Michael wins."

"What?" Blake shrieks, dropping the stone with "YES" painted on it.

"Nellie Veitenheimer is mine!" Michael jumps up in the air, fists pumping, his guitar swinging around his back.

"What made his so fantastic? He just changed the lyrics to another song!"

"Well, for one, Blake," Aylin points to the angry dirty-blond. "You just copied the 'pick up the rock that says your answer' idea from the movie PROM."

His face blushes slightly. "How'd you know?"

"We all saw it for my birthday last year." She reminds him. "Nellie along with us. She'll recognize it too. I don't know how you saw this movie and I don't really care, but Michael wrote a song for Nellie! That's, like, the sweetest thing in the world!" Aylin leans forward to give Michael a high-five. "So Michael wins."

"Also, Shanna li—" Abraham's cut of by a swift kick to the shins from Aylin.

"—Likes songs!" Abraham corrects himself. "Likes songs! And Shanna's opinion counts, too, right?"

Michael and Blake share a confused look.

* * *

"Okay, I think I have a plan." Charlie claps his hands together excitedly, and Nellie rolls her eyes playfully at his enthusiasm.

"What if you wrote her a song?" Nellie quirks an eyebrow.

"Oh, I can't do that, Micha—" His eyes widen when he realizes he was just about to reveal. "M-Michael thinks that's a bad idea."

She frowns. "Since when did you care what Michael thinks is a bad idea? He thinks putting onion on pizza is a bad idea, he doesn't get an opinion."

"A-ah, all the time!" He nods quickly— a little too quickly.

She shrugs, but obviously isn't convinced. "Okay, what's your idea, then?"

He strides a few feet away, and turns on his heel, a wide grin on his face. "Prepare to be amazed, Nellie Veitenheimer. Prepare to be amazed."

* * *

Shanna runs her fingers over the soft fabrics of the dresses in front of her, pursing her lips as she passes them, one by one, none of them catching her eye (none of them would catch his eye, either).

She's about to give up and try another store, when she trips over a pile of fallen dresses on the floor and sees it.

Wow.

Nellie's on her couch, rereading another one of her favorite books, when there's a knock on the door. She folds down the corner of the page she's on and puts her book down, going to answer it. When he does so, she's somewhat shocked to see Michael standing there, his guitar in hand, ready to play.

"Michael?" She leans against the doorframe.

He takes a big breath, and begins to strum. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion until he begins to sing, and she finally realizes what he's doing.

i"Hey, Nellie…. I've been thinkin'… I wanna spend a little special time with you… I wanna take you to the Prom, girl… Down at the…" he stammers slightly, not able to remember where the Prom is being held. "The venue…?" He feels his confidence draining out of him, but he forces himself to go on. "Hey, Nellie… Don't be nervous… We're gonna get a corsage and a limousine… Tell your father not to worry, girl… It's gonna be real fine…" He takes a big gulp before singing the last part. "Please go to the Prom with me…?" He holds the last note out for a while, and, quite frankly, since it's so high, it kind of hurts.

When he finishes, he takes off his guitar and sets it down on the ground beside him. At this point, Nellie's covering her mouth, trying to conceal her laughter.

"So?" He raises a hopeful eyebrow.

She uncovers her mouth. "I'll see you at Prom, Michael."

She then slides indoors and closes the door, worried that if she stayed with him another moment, she was going to explode.

It takes a moment to settle in that she said yes, but as soon as it does, Michael screeches a loud, "Yes!" He fist pumps the air as he races up and down the street.

* * *

Aylin shuffles up the stairs to her bedroom, looking forward to being able to collapse under her covers and sleep. She opens the door to her room, flicks on the lights, and just about has a heart attack.

On the French door glass leading to her balcony, in big, purple (her favorite color!) letters (apparently drawn with some kind of window marker), reads "GO TO PROM WITH ME?". When she looks through the glass, she's surprised to see none other than Charlie sitting cross-legged on the ground, a marker in his hand and giving a big grin and a thumbs up.

She feels her smile growing, and moves to open up the French doors, closing them gingerly behind her. Once she's outside, she sits down next to him.

"So?" His smile turns into a hopeful one.

"Yes, I'll go to Prom with you."

He seems to erupt in joy, and she can't help but laugh as he envelopes her in a big hug. She hugs him back, giggling.

"Oh, thank God." He mumbles when they part. "I was afraid you'd say no."

"I didn't." She teases, and then gets to her feet. She's about to go back in her room when she remembers the marker.

"That is washable, right?"

He frowns. "I think so."

* * *

Finally, it's the night. The night. Prom night.

Around town, teenagers both attending and not chitter in excitement, not even the littlest things bringing down the mood as people spend their entire day to prepare for the big event. Girls curl their hair and paint their nails, guys double-check that the corsages are still in the fridge and stuff condoms in every free space they can find in their tuxes.

And, soon enough, the attendees begin to pile into the hotel ballroom, and the music begins to blare out of the speakers, making everything feel like it's vibrating.

Michael feels sparks shooting up his arm— the arm that has the hand that just so happens to be holding Nellie's. Christ.

He turns his head to look at Blake, who stands somewhat awkwardly next to him. "You're not upset about going stag, right?"

Blake shakes his head mournfully. "I'll find someone to dance with." He scans the ballroom, looking for someone to be his partner for at least one song. "Like—" He takes in a sharp intake of breath. "Shit, is that Shanna?"

The trio look over, all three gasping in shock. It was.

"She looks so different!" Nellie breathes. And she's not lying. Shanna does look extremely different. Her hair is curled, she's wearing more makeup, but the most significant thing about her is definitely the sea foam green knee-high dress she pulls off miraculously.

"Jesus." Blake's eyes look as if they're about to pop out of his skull. Before he even knows it, he's weaving his way through the crowd, right into the seat next to Shanna.

"Shan," He leans forward on his elbows. Her eyes twinkle in his presence.

"Blake."

"So, um…" He runs his tongue over his lips. "How would you feel about dancing with me? Tonight?"

She smiles bigger than ever before.

"I think I'd like that."

* * *

The night's coming to a close, and everyone's sweaty, danced-out, and even some in pain, but none of them want it to end.

As a closing song, the deejay the school had hired decided to play a slow song. Something from, like, the 80's or something, none of them recognized it. But, still, couples pair up and move to the dance floor, and the few without dates stay in their seats, hoping that someone would ask them.

Michael and Nellie sway near the edge of the dance floor, his hand on her hip, hers on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you said yes." He mumbles to her.

"I'm glad I said yes."

He brings his hand up from her hip for a moment to tilt her chin up to his, and then brings his lips down on hers.

* * *

"So, why were you so concerned that I wouldn't say yes?"

Charlie shrugs sheepishly. "I dunno, I-I just… I just thought that someone like you could never like someone like me."

"You thought wrong, then."

She doesn't have to lean up to kiss him, but it doesn't matter, because, hell, they're kissing anyways.

* * *

"So, um, Shanna?"

Shanna looks up at him, her blue eyes wide. "Mhm?"

"So, like…" He shuts his eyes, attempting to gather his courage. "Would you, like, maybe want to go out with me sometime?"

Her smile doesn't falter. "Of course."

* * *

The song soon comes to a close, ending the night for some, but not for others. The deejay grins into his microphone, pressing it close to his lips.

"Thank you, Class of 2012!"


End file.
